


A Moment's Consideration

by audreyskdramablog



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Ignis DLC, Episode Ignis Spoilers, Gen, ardyn is old and unimpressed, technically noctis and ravus exist in this fic but they basically do nothing, with a bit of extra blood thrown in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 01:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyskdramablog/pseuds/audreyskdramablog
Summary: Why not end it all right here?He could, easily. He could slit the boy king’s throat and bleed him out on the Leviathan’s altar. Of all the Astrals, she might actually enjoy that for all it would mean her end. She could finally have her Feeding.





	A Moment's Consideration

**Author's Note:**

> [Original prompt:](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7990574#cmt7990574) “That scene, when Ardyn acted as though he was about to stab Noct? I'd love to read something that gets inside Ardyn's head in that moment.
> 
> He was bluffing to get Ignis to comply, but what if he wasn't? The way he kept toying with the dagger and the long look he gave Noct before grabbing him makes me wonder if he constantly has this push-pull going on in his head where he has to remind himself to stick to the plan and NOT kill the boy king on the spot.”

It is, perhaps, his own fault that he expected more from this moment. Two thousand years of anticipation has a way of accumulating a certain amount of— _ fantasy, _ even if he hadn’t meant to build it up. 

Ardyn expected the Crystal’s anointed King of Kings to be a champion, not a boy. Their encounter at Galdin Quay had been remarkably underwhelming for all it had been amusing to unsettle Noctis and his entourage. But every subsequent encounter has been equally unfulfilling.

Perhaps he should have waited a few more years before he swept into Niflheim and started whispering into their ears. He was impatient, and by the time he realized that Noctis was still unformed, it was too late to put a halt to anything. Some things, once set in motion, pick up speed on their own.

Instead of triumph to have the King of Kings at his feet, he feels contempt. Frustration, rising up like the Scourge under his skin, hot and dark and hungry. 

This boy, unconscious from a single fight with an Astral, is the King of Light?  _ This _ is the culmination of his brother’s dynasty, the keystone of an age, the pinnacle of Bahamut’s prophecy? This  _ child,  _ who could not even comfort his beloved as she lay dying, is the one that they believe will overcome him? 

Picking Noctis feels like a decision made out of spite. If this is the Chosen, Ardyn may as well have slipped into Insomnia and smothered the boy in his sleep for all the challenge this turned out to be. For all the satisfaction it gave him.

He needs more from Noctis Lucis Caelum, one-hundred fourteenth King of Lucis. If killing the Oracle wasn’t enough to make him grow up, perhaps cutting the rest of his supports out from under him will do the trick. With no one left to hold his hand, maybe Noctis will be forced to find his own strength. Maybe then Noctis will be worthy of a two-thousand year wait.

Ardyn summons a dagger and crouches in front of the boy king’s advisor. He ignores Ravus in the background and simply waits until Ignis opens his eyes. Watching carefully for the moment—

There. The boy’s eyes transition from confusion to fear. He loves that moment, when memory rushes in to flood the body with dread and desperation. It has been so long since he felt it himself, but inspiring it in others has its own charm.

Ignis immediately struggles against the MTs. Ardyn keeps the smile off his face, though he lets it leak into his voice. “Come now,” he says, and he begins to tap the flat side of the dagger against his open palm. Ignis’s eyes are drawn to it immediately, and though part of him wishes Ignis were less predictable, it still amuses him how easy it is to control him. Perhaps this will even be fun. He deserves a bit of fun after how boring the day turned out to be. “Why not follow your liege’s lead and stop resisting?” 

“Never!”

A bold statement for someone so young. What does this Ignis know of  _ never _ ? 

(Never. Forever.  _ Two thousand years _ , and they expect this boy king to be his downfall.) 

Not enough.

“You risked life and limb to safeguard the ‘King of Kings,’ only to witness him fail so spectacularly.” Ardyn gets up and moves to Noctis. His footsteps are deliberate, measured, and he keeps the dagger within Ignis’s line of sight during the transition. He drops to a knee near Noctis’s head in a mockery of reverence. “You must be so disappointed.”

Ardyn takes his pleasure where he can, and the unrestrained fear in Ignis’s voice delights him. “Unhand him!” 

He hasn’t even touched Noctis yet, but both he and Ignis know that won’t last. Ardyn studies Noctis’s face, wet from seawater and rain, eyes closed, hair falling over his forehead. There is very little in the way of resemblance to his brother—another misplaced fantasy.

Another disappointment. 

Ardyn accentuates his next words with the casual movement of the dagger. “I know I am. Oh, what good is a world that only ever lets you down? Why not end it all right here?” 

He allows himself a moment to indulge, to turn and look at the advisor pressed into the ground. The boy is pale, and if Ardyn were still capable of pity, the horror in Ignis’s face might inspire a smidgen of it. But Ignis has only spent a few decades waiting on this king, and if anyone deserves sympathy, it isn’t him. 

Ardyn reaches for Noctis and grabs the collar of his shirt, ignoring Ignis’s protests. 

_ Why not end it all right here? _

He could, easily. He could slit the boy king’s throat and bleed him out on the Leviathan’s altar. Of all the Astrals, she might actually enjoy that for all it would mean her end. She could finally have her Feeding. 

He could drive his dagger through the boy king’s eye, pierce what little he has for a brain, watch him twitch and twist and go shuddering still. He could enjoy that helpless, reflexive thrashing for several minutes if he did it right. 

Ardyn pulls Noctis up by his collar. His fingers clench around the sodden fabric. 

He could stab the boy king in the heart and watch him die in a pool of his own blood. He could sidestep the prophecy and ruin two thousand years of preparation for both him and Bahamut. 

It would be fair, for both their plans to be for naught. He could make his own decision out of spite. He could—

Ardyn reverses his grip on the dagger and draws it high. Ignis screams his king’s name. 

—he could win against the Astrals and their precious Crystal, and still taste ashes in his mouth. He could win, and have eternity to regret that he never showed them his true power.

A dagger knocks off his hat, and Ardyn glances to his right. Ah, Ravus. Still determined to kick up a fuss despite the futility. How tiresome.

“My, you two certainly have become fast friends.” Ardyn brings the dagger down carefully, dismisses it, and tosses Noctis to the side. It takes but a moment to retrieve his hat, though he sets it aside on an MT to keep it safe, just in case. 

But he needn’t bother. Ardyn calls forth magic in his right palm and blasts it at Ravus. The foolish boy doesn’t even dodge; he gets knocked off his feet and does not get back on them. 

Yet  _ another  _ disappointment. Shouldn’t betrayal be at least  _ somewhat  _ interesting?

Ardyn contemplates that thought for a few seconds, toying idly with magic burning in his hand. A knife through the Oracle’s guts wasn’t enough to make Noctis into the king Ardyn needs him to be; perhaps a different tactic is in order for his advisor. 

He turns back around, wearing the hint of a smile. “Permit me to make a suggestion,” he says, and he doesn’t miss how Ignis’s eyes narrow at the fiction. They both know he is no position to allow or deny anything. Ardyn reaches out his with his left hand, just to play the part of a welcoming, potential host. “Rather than follow this flotsam and float away to a watery grave, why not come with me? What do you say?”

Ardyn has taken the little advisor by surprise, that much is plain from the expressions flitting across his face. It will not matter either way in the long run, since Ignis will end up dead, but it may very well matter to Noctis. How would he react, if one of his retainers abandoned him only to lose his life anyway?

But Ignis is far too much like Ravus. His surprise melts away, and in its place is pointless defiance. He finally musters up the strength to break free of the MTs holding him down but makes no other move to attack or defend.

Ardyn holds back his sigh, though it requires effort. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’” 

“I swore an oath to stand with Noct and keep him safe,” Ignis declares, as if his audience actually cares about an oath that will—

Ah. Now where did the little advisor get his hands on the ring? Perhaps this boy is cleverer than Ardyn gave him credit for. 

—“Whatever it takes, I  _ will _ protect him,” Ignis says, and then he puts on the ring.

Perhaps not.

Ignis begins to scream, and Ardyn cannot help the laughter that bubbles up inside him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He did that once, when he was just short of three hundred years and still more vengeful than wise. Stole the ring from the dead great-something-or-other-grandson’s severed hand and placed it on his own finger. 

That had been his second death, a burning agony as every bit of his flesh crumbled into ash. It was still one of the most unpleasant, because his brother was nothing if not dramatic in rejecting him from beyond. 

_ Royal blood but still unworthy. _

No, he can’t kill Noctis now. He wants his dear brother to watch him strike down the King of Kings at his peak. He wants to make his brother watch him kill the one that is supposed to be worthier than him.

“I may not be of royal blood, but if a Glaive can harness its power, then so can I! Kings of Lucis, lend me your strength!” 

The ring flares, Ignis screams—

And he does not die. 

He  _ burns  _ with magic, but it does not consume him. Not yet. And then he has the audacity to warp away and brandish the ring as if it truly does belong to him.

The Kings of Lucis found the boy king’s advisor worthy of their power, at least for a moment, and  _ that _ Ardyn will not abide.

“Well,” he says, and he follows after Ignis in that space between words, “they’ve shown you their favor after all.” 

He will show the Kings of Lucis, the Crystal, and the Astrals, that they have miscalculated once again. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [tumblr](http://audreyskdramablog.tumblr.com/) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/audreyskdrama) if you like.


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